


love the hard way

by andnowforyaya



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Background Relationships, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, One Night Stands, References to Drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 12:20:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9234734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andnowforyaya/pseuds/andnowforyaya
Summary: The barista writes his name and number on Hoseok's coffee cup, and Hoseok falls head over heels.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [blue_moon_2](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/blue_moon_2) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Jan 7th, 2017

The boy handing him his latte over the counter gives him a once over, a smile twitching in the corners of his lips as Hoseok reaches to take the drink, and recognition dawns on his face just as Hoseok realizes why he looks so familiar.

“Oh,” Hoseok says, because he’s never been good at being subtle. “Hello, you.”

“Hi, you,” the boy says, the smile coming out now in full color, and Hoseok is dazzled by the brightness of it. The other boy is wearing a plain black t-shirt and jeans and a bright green apron that comes down to his knees and his auburn hair is a tousled mess on top of his head and Hoseok remembers how pretty he’d been underneath all that, pale skin and unexpected freckles and a rich, velvety voice. Perfect.

“I didn’t,” Hoseok says, unsure what he’s trying to say before his mouth starts moving. “I got. There was -- You left before I could get your number?” His cheeks feel hot. He wraps the scarf around his neck tighter, fidgeting.

“Oh, yeah,” the boy says, touching a finger to his pink, bow-shaped lips in thought. He looks different in glasses, but only slightly so; the extra layer like a window for Hoseok to peer through. “That. This was -- what -- two weekends ago?”

“Sure,” Hoseok agrees.

“Sorry,” the boy says. “That’s a thing I do. Do you still want my number?”

Hoseok nods, and the boy reaches his hand out to take Hoseok’s cup of coffee from him again. He uncaps the sharpie he withdraws from a pocket in his apron, putting the cap between his teeth, and scribbles out something onto the paper cup. Hoseok tries not to stare too hard at the way his lashes throw tiny shadows over the tops of his cheeks, or how his earrings catch the light.

His name is Kihyun. When Hoseok offers him his name in return, Kihyun’s eyes twinkle and he smiles. “I know,” he says. “I had to write it on the cup earlier for your order.”

“Right,” Hoseok says. “Well, then.”

.

Hoseok and Kihyun are both juniors. They had one class together in freshman year, a general math requirement, but the class was so huge Hoseok can’t remember if he’d ever seen Kihyun in those seminars.

These are the things Hoseok finds out about Kihyun: Kihyun likes to sing. Kihyun played the piano for a while but gave it up when his vocal commitments began to take up too much time. Kihyun doesn’t do relationships. Kihyun insists he can cook but only ever makes fried rice and ramen if Hoseok comes over, which is starting to happen more and more frequently. 

“I never have the ingredients,” Kihyun complains. “You’re always coming over unannounced, or when we’re both too drunk to stand and you can’t possibly expect me to cook anything with actual fire when I’m like that, so.”

“We’ll just have to plan in advance,” Hoseok says. “A dinner date.”

He looks at the way Kihyun tenses and wishes he could take back his words, but after a moment, Kihyun shoves him over on the couch with a laugh and snatches a game controller from under the coffee table where he keeps them.

“Fine,” Kihyun says, “but you’re paying for the groceries.”

.

“So,” his roommate Minhyuk says over a bowl of cereal and milk, dinner for the evening, his silver hair like a fluffy cloud on top of his head. They’d both spent the whole day under oath to remain social media-free to cram as much information as possible into their heads for the upcoming season of midterms -- with quick tech breaks every few hours. Maybe every hour. Maybe Hoseok checked his phone every couple of minutes under the table but that’s neither here nor there. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with this Kihyun guy lately.”

“So?” Hoseok says. “We’re friends.”

“Just friends, or like, _friend_ friends?” Minhyuk asks, waggling his brows while spooning milk into his mouth.

Hoseok snaps his text book shut and flings himself horizontal onto the couch dramatically in response, groaning. It’s been a long day of studying and every line of text is swimming in front of his field of vision. “Just friends,” he says, rubbing both hands over his face and pushing his blond hair out of his eyes.

“I think I know Kihyun,” Minhyuk begins conversationally. “He had a just-friends but probably-more-than-friends thing with Hyunwoo-hyung, like, a year ago. Same Kihyun?”

“I don’t know,” Hoseok says, imagining Kihyun and Hyunwoo together. He hadn’t known Hyunwoo until this year, after joining the dance group Hyunwoo headed. Hyunwoo could crush Kihyun with his big rippling arms. Maybe Kihyun likes that. For some reason, this upsets him. Kihyun isn’t much shorter than Hoseok, only by a few centimeters, but the other boy’s shoulders and frame are much narrower. One of Hoseok’s biceps is about the same circumference as one of Kihyun’s calves. He knows because they’ve compared, side to side. “It’s not like I asked him for a list of all the people he’s slept with.”

Minhyuk whistles. “Well, it’d be a long list.”

Hoseok sits up on the couch and glares in Minhyuk’s direction, and his friend pauses with the next spoonful of cereal halfway to his mouth. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Minhyuk shrugs. “Nothing. Just, objectively, it’d be a long list.”

Hoseok fizzles against the cushions of the couch, fingers itching. That night he dreams of Kihyun opening up a book full of names, and Hoseok’s is there on the page, scratched out.

.

The promised dinner with Kihyun comes a week later. Kihyun’s roommate Changkyun is out for the night but neither Kihyun or Hoseok had felt like doing much, hindered by the rain coming down in torrents outside.

Kihyun texts Hoseok a list of ingredients to pick up at the grocery store on the way to the apartment, each ingredient accompanied by a meticulous description of exactly how much to buy and what it might look like or where Hoseok might find it. Hoseok admits that he has to refer to these details more than once as he shops; he usually just buys ramen and things to throw into the ramen whenever he’s in the store, something that makes Kihyun mourn.

“I’m going to feed you real food,” Kihyun says, bringing a chopping board out from the bottom cupboard and wielding a knife the length of his arm. “Don’t look over my shoulder; it makes me nervous.” 

“I have to make sure you’re not cheating,” Hoseok says.

“Fine,” Kihyun says. “You can sit at the counter, but do something on your phone so it doesn’t look like you’re watching everything I’m doing.”

“Performance anxiety?” Hoseok teases.

But then Kihyun slams the knife down through the middle of an onion, slicing it clean through, the noise making Hoseok jump in his seat, so he shuts up.

He likes watching Kihyun work. A few minutes in, he starts getting chats from Hyunwoo about dance practice tomorrow and answers them all dutifully, assuring the leader of the crew that he’ll be there. Sunday practices are always rough with the number of hangovers that need nursing, usually, so Hyunwoo’s made a habit of sending reminders to everyone not to get too shit-faced on Saturday nights in an effort to stem this problem. Not that it’s worked at all.

He realizes Kihyun is humming to himself as he cooks, a familiar melody that Hoseok can’t name until suddenly he can, and it makes him grin wide and uninhibited. He hadn’t taken Kihyun for the kind of guy who’d listen to bubblegum pop, but he supposes they’re still learning things about each other. And he loves learning things about Kihyun.

The other boy looks up then, and Hoseok immediately lowers his gaze to his phone, pretending to be responding to the chat Hyunwoo sent a few minutes ago.

“What?” Kihyun asks accusatorily.

“What?” Hoseok responds, not fooling anyone.

Kihyun bites his lips but then he’s smiling, his ears a little pink at the tips, before turning back to the pot he has on the stove. He told Hoseok he’d be making something called ratatouille which Hoseok has zero expectations about except for he thinks he remembers watching a movie when he was a kid about a rat that cooked a dish of the same name.

“Smells good,” Hoseok says, which makes Kihyun laugh.

“All I’ve done is chop everything up and turn on the stove, Hoseok,” Kihyun says. Hoseok likes the way Kihyun says his name, a little breathy on the last syllable, always. “So what you’re smelling is raw vegetables and gas.”

“Well,” Hoseok says, “it smells good and I can’t wait.”

Kihyun starts to work again, now singing low under his breath. Hoseok watches the dimples of his shoulder blades under his shirt as he moves, and the apartment starts to fill up with the mouth-watering smell of onions and garlic frying in oil.

The meal is perfect, and Hoseok surprises Kihyun with a bottle of wine he chose to accompany it, even though he thinks wine is a little pretentious, but Kihyun seems to appreciate it.

Kihyun’s face is flushed from the heat of the stove, and then from the wine, his lips stained red, and Hoseok thinks he’s beautiful.

.

The room smells like stale sweat and Gatorade and Hoseok isn’t quite ready to get up to do another run through of the dance when the hardwood floors where he’s currently horizontal are so comfortable. He turns his head to look into the mirrors lining the wall at the front of the room and sees his team mates in similar states, drenched, the heat from their breaths fogging up the room and mirrors even though they propped the door open an hour into practice.

“Okay,” Hyunwoo says, “Break’s over. Let’s run through the part after the second verse. The formation is always tricky.”

“No,” Jooheon whines, spread eagle on the floor next to Hoseok. “Five more minutes, dad.”

They’re a crew of twelve usually, but for the Battle of the Boroughs at the end of the month they’ve been granted the usual two slots, one for the whole crew and one for a core unit of five, the members of which Hyunwoo and Hyungwon decided through a round of auditions. Last year, they finished third among the crews that competed, dance groups from different colleges in the area, and this year they’re gunning for a higher standing. Practice ended for the larger group over an hour ago.

“The show’s in two and a half weeks, team,” Hyunwoo says sternly to a chorus of groans from Jooheon, on the floor, and from Hyungwon and Minhyuk who are sitting against the wall and holding each other up by the door. “Every minute counts.”

“But my arms are noodles,” Minhyuk says, holding his arms up in front of him and waving them around loosely to demonstrate, nearly smacking Hyungwon in his nose for his trouble. Hyungwon pulls away and scowls at him, the expression twisting the pretty features of his face.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Hyunwoo says slowly. He’s already stood up and started twisting his arms back and forth to warm up again. “Every mistake is a shot.”

This makes Jooheon sit up abruptly like a toy springing from a jack-in-the-box and says, “Interesting. And what kind of illegal beverage have you managed to sneak into the studio today?”

It really isn’t that hard to sneak liquor into the studios at the student center, but the illicit thrill of drinking on premises is something none of the boys can fully explain.

Hyunwoo grins. He says, “Tequila, of course.”

Some time between the fourth shot and the seventh the boys have stopped practicing and just started messing around to the music still blaring in the speakers of the room. Looking at Hyunwoo’s wide eyes in the mirror, Hoseok can see he regrets the decision he made to bribe the team with alcohol, but there’s a fondness there, too, that makes Hoseok feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Or maybe that’s the alcohol?

He doesn’t know -- he spins and crashes into Minhyuk, pinwheeling his arms in an attempt to prevent himself from falling but to no avail. Minhyuk cackles and helps him up.

“Hoseokkie,” Minhyuk says sweetly, “are you going to invite Kihyun to the showcase?”

“I don’t know,” Hoseok says breathlessly, thinking about Kihyun’s face, his cute eyes and cute nose and cute lips. His heart warms and he feels a smile spread over his whole face. “I should, shouldn’t I?”

“Is this the Kihyun you may or may not be sleeping with?” Hyungwon asks, appearing out of nowhere behind Minhyuk, his gaze like a hawk’s.

“Uh,” Hoseok says, “yes? No sleeping involved, though, except sometimes separately on his couch. Napping. We nap together.”

“Same Kihyun?” Hyungwon asks next, looking over at Hyunwoo who’s bobbing his head to the music from his seat on the floor. Jooheon is next to him, repeating the motions of his solo dance break in time to the beat to practice, albeit a bit sloppily given he’s had three shots of now-warm tequila.

“We’re just friends,” Hoseok says quickly, trying to gauge Hyunwoo for his response, but Hyunwoo just looks up and shrugs at him, his cheeks a little pink but otherwise displaying no signs of the three shots he’s had to take.

“Yoo Kihyun?” Hyunwoo asks for clarification, and Hoseok nods, eyes wide. Hyunwoo shrugs again. “I’m not his keeper,” is all he says.

The words stain the air like microphone feedback, and Hoseok isn’t sure how he’s supposed to feel about Hyunwoo’s answer. Relief that there’s seemingly nothing between Kihyun and Hyunwoo anymore, or wariness? Hoseok and Kihyun aren’t even a thing, right? Even though he thinks Kihyun was put on earth to make it more beautiful, that Kihyun’s hair is the softest thing he’s ever touched, that Kihyun’s ramen is, like, manna from heaven or something.

And the alcohol is making Hoseok dizzy. He’d been the only boy unfortunate enough to take seven shots in the span of forty minutes, and Minhyuk has been feeding him bottles of Gatorade for the past ten.

“Well,” Minhyuk says for Hoseok, “does that mean it’s okay if we invite Kihyunnie to the showcase?”

Hyunwoo laughs and Hoseok shudders. “You can invite him. Whether or not he’ll come is up to him.”

.

“So you’ll come?” Hoseok asks, pleading with his eyes. He gives his best impression of a puppy wanting treats, complete with the floppy hands in front of his chest, and Kihyun laughs at him from behind the counter of the coffee shop, head thrown back like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever seen. Hoseok maybe preens just a little bit.

“When is it again?”

“The weekend after next,” Hoseok says.

“And where?” Kihyun asks next.

“Uh,” Hoseok says. “Jersey.” He winces when Kihyun winces. “But we can go together! You can travel with us; Jooheon has a car so he can drive.”

“Can I sit in the front?” Kihyun says with a sly little smile, his eyes sparkling. The sunlight glances off his cheekbones and makes his hair glow like fire and Hoseok forgets to breathe for a tiny moment.

“Yes,” he agrees, easily, before shaking his head and backtracking. “I mean, I’ll have to ask Jooheon, since it’s his car...and Hyunwoo, since he’s the oldest and the team captain so he’ll probably want to sit in the front...but I mean--”

“Okay, fine, just stop rambling,” Kihyun says, still laughing. “I’m inviting my roommate, though. I think he knows Jooheon, anyway. And Changkyun has a car, too. We can carpool like soccer moms. I’ll take half the kids and you can take the other half.”

 _But I want to sit with you,_ Hoseok almost says, stopping himself because even he can tell how whiny and clingy that sounds. Instead he says, “Great,” smiling so wide his face hurts. Kihyun hands him his latte, a double, and their fingers brush over the cup, jolting Hoseok with a spark that shoots down his spine. He almost leans over the counter to kiss Kihyun on the cheek.

Almost.

.

The thing is, it’s getting harder and harder not to kiss Kihyun.

When they make plans for brunch and Kihyun comes over to wait as Hoseok gets ready because he always takes forever to get ready, and he’s usually always late for plans with others, too, but with Kihyun he’s never late because Kihyun comes to him and sits on his bed scrolling through notifications on his phone and Hoseok imagines a day when it might be okay for him to just sit down next to him and push his phone away from his face and kiss him soft on the lips.

When Hoseok goes over to Kihyun’s and they marathon tv shows and movies and Kihyun falls asleep on his shoulder, mouth slightly parted and even drooling just a little bit, and Hoseok could close the distance without Kihyun even knowing, just brush his lips over Kihyun’s cheek, but he doesn’t, and he helps Kihyun down onto the couch instead, dragging a blanket from Kihyun’s room to throw over the smaller boy’s body and then stuffing himself into the corner of the couch to sleep, knowing he’ll wake up with a cramp in his side and neck.

When he visits Kihyun after dance practices and throws his sweaty clothes at him and Kihyun shrieks and laughs and gathers the clothes up to put in his hamper because the laundry room in Kihyun’s building is better than the one in Hoseok’s, so somewhere along the way their clothes start to get mixed up, and then Kihyun’s wearing Hoseok’s hoodies in the library.

If they were dating Hoseok would surprise Kihyun after his shift at the coffee shop with dinner, a reservation for two at the restaurant a few blocks from campus where Kihyun keeps peering into the windows forlornly and lingering by the doors to look over the menu. “Too expensive,” he always says sadly, but Hoseok would have saved the meager pocket change he gets every Monday evening after tutoring the son of a family friend for weeks to spend it on Kihyun.

They’d eat in the restaurant and maybe play light footsie under the table and Kihyun would blush the whole night from every compliment Hoseok’s ever wanted to throw at him but couldn’t -- that he’s the prettiest boy Hoseok knows and that his nose is so sharp and so adorable and that his laugh brightens Hoseok’s whole world and that his voice when he sings is so wonderful Hoseok wishes he could distill it and turn it into the smoothest, sweetest honey.

He’d hold Kihyun’s hand over the table and steal Kihyun’s food but it would be okay because Kihyun would steal his food, too, and in the end they’d feed each other off their plates. At the end of the meal, Kihyun would go for the check but Hoseok wouldn’t let him even glimpse at it, and Kihyun would feel so grateful, so taken-care of…

He’d definitely want Hoseok to kiss him, then, right? Back at Hoseok’s apartment, Hoseok would kiss those soft, pink lips and hold Kihyun by his narrow waist and guide him to the bed. Kihyun would be so perfect underneath him, soft skin and the surprising freckles that Hoseok would remember from the first time. He’d map every constellation of freckles with his lips and Kihyun would be charmed and pull Hoseok close to lay between his thighs. They’d kiss for hours until just kissing was not enough, until they both wanted more.

But they’re not dating, so Hoseok's probably a fool to even imagine.

.

“Turn left here,” Hyungwon says from the co-pilot seat of Jooheon’s sedan. “Left, left, no! Left!”

Jooheon turns right, screaming, and Minhyuk groans and throws his head back against the headrest. Hoseok, who lost every round of rock-paper-scissors with the group and was relegated to the middle seat in the back, falls neatly into Hyunwoo’s lap as the car veers in the wrong direction.

“Sorry,” Hoseok gasps, pushing himself to rights quickly. Hyunwoo doesn’t even flinch, just smiles a little. Hoseok has a sneaking suspicion that he’s actually just still asleep. It’s early for the weekend, a little past ten in the morning, and they crossed into Jersey about twenty minutes ago.

As Hyungwon and Jooheon bicker in the front about where to turn next over the music blaring out of Jooheon’s speakers, Hoseok’s phone buzzes in his hand. Kihyun has sent a text. 

>> _are you actually secretly luring me to your killspot to murder me_

Minhyuk snickers when he sees the screen. “O, Ye of little faith,” he says in Hoseok’s ear.

“I don’t think you’re using that correctly,” Hoseok says, typing a response.

<< _no jooheon is just a terrible driver_

>> _kyun is about to explode. we might go off road. take our chances in the wild._

A little knot of jealousy festers in Hoseok’s stomach at the nickname Kihyun uses for his roommate, Changkyun. They must be close. He’s met Changkyun a few times, now, mostly when Changkyun is on his way out from the apartment he shares with Kihyun and Hoseok is arriving or the other way around. 

<< _but what about our performance?_ , Hoseok sends back to Kihyun, pouting at his phone. << _you can’t take our dancers hostage like that!_

Changkyun has three other crew members in the backseat of his car, with the remaining four crew members and a crowd of their friends and supporters having taken their chances on public transportation. Which, actually, Hoseok thinks, staring hard at the back of Jooheon’s head and considering how many times they’ve made a wrong turn, might have been the better way to go.

Hoseok twists his body and cranes his neck to look out the back window of the car, waving at Kihyun through the glass and space that separates them, but it is Changkyun who notices him first. Changkyun’s face is all scrunched toward the center, his brows pointed down toward his nose. The driver waves his hand around like he’s shooing Hoseok away. Kihyun, in the passenger’s seat, looks up from his phone and laughs at Changkyun and Hoseok’s chest gets all hot and light and finally Kihyun shifts his attention to Hoseok, lifting his hand in a little wave before going back to his phone.

>> _coffee in exchange for the hostages when we arrive_ , Kihyun demands, and Hoseok receives an emoji of a smiling winky face after.

Hoseok turns back in his seat, grinning, holding his phone probably too close to his face.

<< _deal_.

.

There isn’t actually any time for coffee for the dancers, though Kihyun drags Changkyun out with him to walk around the campus of the college they are visiting to see if they can happen upon a deli that’s open, promising to bring back treats.

Hyunwoo makes them go through warm-ups together and multiple run-throughs and then it’s just before noon, which is when the battle and performances start.

Every year, the battle gets bigger and bigger as more groups from different colleges hear about it. Battle of the Boroughs got its name from when it was hosted in New York City and it was still small and local enough to be hosted somewhere for near-to-free in a college performance space on Manhattan. But the competition grew. A few years back it was decided that each college participating would take turns hosting year-to-year to lessen the burden on the founding group, and soon enough the group of colleges invited each year widened to include crews in a few of the surrounding states. 

Hoseok kind of likes coming out to Jersey for it; it feels a bit like vacation.

The area backstage is filled with groups clustered together, warming up or going through choreography or just hanging out, and Hoseok sits with his own team, catching his breath, feeling the familiar weight of competition settle evenly over his shoulders. He always feels calmest before performing, for some reason. Peaceful. Minhyuk tells him it’s because he loves the stage.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees movement that is familiar, and turns his head toward it. Kihyun, laden with plastic grocery bags, is toeing around the groups spread out over the floor, and Changkyun trails behind him, stepping where Kihyun steps like an obedient puppy following its owner.

“We bring treats,” Kihyun announces, slightly breathless and a little flushed from rushing back. Glowing. “We thought we weren’t gonna make it back in time.”

Instantly the group is on its feet and crowding around the two boys, hands reaching for the contents of the plastic bags, and Kihyun doles out little plastic-wrapped triangles of deli sandwiches to each waiting hand, reprimands quick on his tongue if he suspects someone is trying to take more than their fair share. Hoseok is reminded of a mother bird feeding her chirping young. He waits, watching the scene and wondering if anyone else’s heart feels like it's filled with rainbows.

A chorus of thank you’s follows, a few one-armed hugs, sleepy exclamations of love. Kihyun accepts all of it, smiling.

“You didn’t have to,” Minhyuk says, sidling up to Kihyun again and peering into a remaining plastic bag to see if he can scrounge for seconds.

“Nuh-uh,” Kihyun says, “this one’s for Hoseok. He didn’t get one yet.” He tosses the sandwich the short distance to Hoseok, who catches it with both hands, cupping it as preciously as if it were a fragile egg.

“Seriously, Kihyun,” Hyunwoo says from the far edge of the group, his voice resonating like he’s delivering a verdict, and it makes the air suddenly thick and heavy. “You didn’t have to.”

Kihyun shifts awkwardly in place and his smile dips slightly in wattage, though it doesn’t disappear. Hoseok wants to reach out to take his hand, but he doesn’t get the chance to, because Kihyun shrugs and tilts his head and says, “It’s fine,” just to Hyunwoo, like there isn’t anyone else in the room, and stuffs his hands into his pockets.

Then he takes a deep breath and announces, “Okay, Kyun and I have to get seats, now. We’re not even supposed to be back here.”

This spurs the group back into action, and they devour the sandwiches they were given while windmilling their arms to warm up again, walking in circles around each other and reviewing problem parts of the choreography. Hoseok lingers, though, by Kihyun, watching him take the last two sandwiches out of a plastic bag, their shapes lopsided from being crushed.

Kihyun hands one to Changkyun with a crooked grin. “Sorry about this one...I'll treat you to dinner…” he offers slowly, and Changkyun snatches the food from Kihyun's hand.

“You offered,” Changkyun says happily. “Remember that when you complain about it later.”

“I won't complain--”

Changkyun’s voice takes on a higher tone as he imitates Kihyun, complete with a wrinkle in a straight line at the bridge of his nose. “I spend so much time cooking and cleaning you should be paying _me_ to live here--”

“Well, it's _true_ ,” Kihyun says.

Hoseok steps forward, interrupting their bickering just as it looks like they're going to turn away to leave to backstage area without acknowledging him, his fingers at Kihyun's elbow. “Ki -- wait.”

Kihyun turns, and he’s very close, suddenly. He looks up at Hoseok curiously, his expression open, head tilted slightly to the side.

“Thanks for the food,” Hoseok says sheepishly. “Wish me luck?”

“Of course!” Kihyun exclaims. “Just wait -- you've never seen me in action. We made _signs._ ”

He's smiling so brightly that it's all Hoseok can see, and he doesn't even realize Kihyun's arms are around him until Kihyun is letting go and stepping away from him and tugging his shirt to rights across his torso with his eyes all shadowed and warm.

“Good luck,” Kihyun says softly. His fingers trail cool fire over Hoseok's skin, and Hoseok suppresses a shiver.

When Kihyun leaves with Changkyun, Hoseok can't help but feel that something was missing.

.

The performance is a blur of lights, heat, and chants and shouts from the audience. Hoseok tries to spot Kihyun in the crowd but from the stage the audience is just a rolling mass of shadows, with the occasional piercing shout of encouragement reaching the dancers. Performing on stage always hypes Hoseok up, so after they're done, Hoseok runs around with Minhyuk to the other groups still waiting to perform, encouraging them and catching up and challenging them to impromptu dance battles. He wonders in the back of his mind if Kihyun likes the show, if he's losing his voice cheering.

When results are announced, their sub-unit gets second and their group gets third overall. Hoseok thinks he can hear Kihyun's voice rising above the screaming of the audience in excitement, and grins so wide under the stage lights he thinks his face might split in half. They're pleased with the results if not ecstatic, and Hyunwoo thanks them all backstage for their work and effort and tells them they'll do better at this event next year.

Which brings them to the after party.

.

“Okay, but,” Kihyun is shouting over the music, his eyes bright and his skin glowing, “when you did that move? That move. That was _awesome_.”

He attempts to copy it, or at least that’s what Hoseok thinks he’s doing, but four shots in and a Long Island Iced Tea later, Kihyun could be described as “wobbly” at best and downright sloppy if Hoseok weren’t holding any of his words back. As it is, Hoseok isn’t 100% sober himself and doesn’t say anything, laughing instead and stepping forward to put his hands on Kihyun’s shoulders to make him stop doing whatever it is he’s doing, which is wiggling his hips and pumping his fists and spilling a little bit of vodka over himself from the cup in his right hand.

“Whoops,” Kihyun laughs, stilling for Hoseok.

After the battle, the dance crews and friends had traveled en masse back to Manhattan to get the night started. As the night progressed, slowly groups started to break off and head out to different bars and clubs in the city, and now it’s just Hyunwoo’s crew and a crew who call themselves Seventeen (even though they don’t have 17 members -- Hoseok doesn’t really understand if irony’s involved) and they’ve taken over about half the dance floor of a tiny bar in the Lower East Side that starts playing good music at one in the morning until closing time.

“I have a secret,” Kihyun shouts, the lights flashing colors across his face in time to the beat. “I can’t dance!”

“You seem okay to me,” Hoseok says. 

Kihyun waves around his drink, spilling more of it in the process. “Flattery will get you nothing.”

Hoseok barks a laugh. “I’m not trying to get anything from you.”

“Aren’t you?” Kihyun asks, raising an eyebrow, suddenly looking very, very sober. But then the song changes, something with a sensuous, grinding beat, and Kihyun turns away with a shout, looking for someone in the crowd and weaving through the bodies on the dance floor.

Hoseok isn’t sure why his heart feels like it’s stopped beating in his chest. He just stares after the spot Kihyun had left, noticing how empty it seems. The music feels far away as he watches Kihyun’s head bob along in the crowd and stop. Hoseok stands on his toes to see where the other boy has landed; Kihyun’s stopped in front of Changkyun, who’s dancing with Jooheon.

Then Minhyuk’s voice is in his ear.

“You’ve got it sooooo bad,” Minhyuk croons. “I hope it’s not another Seulgi situation.”

Hoseok swats at his ear like he would a fly, scowling. “I need a drink,” he says, Minhyuk’s laughter following him to the bar.

.

At some time around three in the morning, Hoseok realizes he is drunk. Not wasted enough that he can’t function but drunk enough that when he blinks his vision splits in two for just a moment before righting again.

They’ve relocated to another club, and Hoseok isn’t sure how they got here, but the lights are flashing and the floor is packed still, bodies moving against each other to the beat, and then Kihyun is there, in front of him, moving his body against Hoseok’s, lifting his arms to wind them around Hoseok’s neck, pushing his hips against Hoseok’s fingers, and Hoseok is struck, feels himself magnetized to Kihyun like he’s a satellite in the orbit of Kihyun’s gravity, like he’s one of Kihyun’s moons.

“You’re so pretty,” Hoseok shouts, the words spilling from his lips like water dribbling out from a tipped glass.

Kihyun grins, pushes their bodies closer, grinding against Hoseok, his eyes closed as he smiles. He says, “Do you want to fuck me?”

There’s ringing in Hoseok’s ears, and the pulsing beat of his heart. “What?”

Kihyun hooks his hand around the back of Hoseok’s neck to draw him close, bringing his lips near Hoseok’s ear. He asks, “Do you want to get out of here?”

And Hoseok says yes.

.

Kihyun’s hand is small in Hoseok’s as they wait on the curb, their breaths misting in the air. Hoseok blows a breath in Kihyun’s face and laughs when the other boy wrinkles his nose, holding Hoseok’s hand tighter. The world feels wide and open. Kihyun stands in front of him and zips up Hoseok’s coat, up to his chin, and puts his bare hands in Hoseok’s pockets as they wait, as Hoseok lifts his hand to hail a cab.

When one rolls up, they decide to cab back to Hoseok’s place because they won’t have to worry about Minhyuk, who left earlier in the night with a dancer from another crew.

“What are you doing?” Hoseok asks, crowding into the backseat with Kihyun. The other boy’s phone throws light up against his face.

Kihyun says, “Telling Changkyun where I am.”

“You’re with me,” Hoseok says, pouting.

“I know that, silly.” Kihyun laughs and puts his phone away and twines his fingers into Hoseok’s on top of the leather of the seats. “I just don’t want him to worry.”

Hoseok grins and nuzzles his face into Kihyun’s chest, feels Kihyun’s arms come to wrap around his middle. He’s warm, and Kihyun is soft and smells like sugar and lemons and vodka. “Why would he be worried?” Hoseok mumbles into Kihyun’s jacket.

He feels fingers at his scalp, running through his hair. Kihyun hums and sinks back against the cushion and Hoseok sinks with him, comfortable. The lights from the city streak past them in the cab, and in the next moment, Hoseok is blinking himself awake as the car pulls to a stop in front of his building. He hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep. Kihyun pays and tugs him out of the backseat, his smaller hand in Hoseok’s, the heat from his fingers traveling all the way up to rest on Hoseok’s cheeks.

“Well?” Kihyun asks as they stand in front of the entrance to the lobby.

Hoseok sways and thinks he’ll never forget the way Kihyun looks right now -- soft pink on his cheeks and the tip of his nose, eyes bright and reflecting the golden light from the street lamps, hair blown back from his face, and his hand in Hoseok’s, waiting. “Well, what?” Hoseok asks.

“Are you going to open the door?” Kihyun laughs, and it’s another thing Hoseok thinks he could never forget.

“Just waiting for the right moment,” Hoseok says, taking out his keys and pausing again, facing Kihyun. The air is suddenly still around them, and the space between them feels infinite, stretched out over the longest seconds of Hoseok’s life, but Hoseok crosses it, one millimeter at a time, watching Kihyun for any signs that he doesn’t want this and finding none.

Kihyun’s smile is sly like a fox’s. When their lips meet, it’s like the world sighs, starts spinning again. Hoseok opens the door, and they both fall through it.

.

Hoseok wakes up freezing, completely naked save for a tiny corner of his blanket curled around his calf, rolls over in bed to see Kihyun wrapped so tightly in the rest of his blanket that all he can see is the dark mess of Kihyun’s hair. A warm fondness grows in his chest even as his body seems to fight it with a shiver. He reaches out to pull Kihyun and the blanket closer, tugging the covers loose from Kihyun’s vice-like grip and chuckling when Kihyun pouts in his sleep and tries to hold on, reluctant to let go.

“Here we go,” Hoseok whispers, curling up around Kihyun’s body, an electric pulse shooting through him when skin touches bare skin. He pulls the blanket tight around them both and lets himself hold Kihyun around his waist.

“Where are we going?” Kihyun mumbles sleepily, his lips brushing over the pulse fluttering at Hoseok’s neck.

“Nowhere, hopefully,” Hoseok says. “Was just adjusting the blankets, you hog.”

“Already with the name-calling,” Kihyun protests. “There goes my offer to make breakfast.”

Hoseok bites his lip to keep the grin at a manageable size on his face. He imagines many more mornings like this, waking up together with Kihyun hogging the blankets or maybe curled tight against him, the soft thrill of being the first one allowed to greet Kihyun in the mornings, to steal his kisses, to hold him against his chest until the sun has creeped high into the sky.

Eventually, they order lunch to be delivered, and Kihyun washes up in Hoseok’s bathroom, using his spare toothbrush. He lingers, and Hoseok thinks that must mean something. Something special. They watch a movie on the couch with lunch and lean against each other and Hoseok kisses Kihyun twice, not caring how he tastes like Pad Thai.

.

It’s easy falling in love with Yoo Kihyun. Hoseok’s a natural at it, like he was always meant to find Kihyun and fall in love with him. He loves Kihyun’s hair even when he dyes it pink on a dare to one-up Hoseok’s blue dye job and he loves Kihyun’s toes even though he can wiggle each one separately like some sort of alien and he loves Kihyun’s laugh and the way he smiles at Hoseok and the way he can always tell when Hoseok is sad, or angry, or hungry, sometimes before Hoseok even realizes, like Kihyun’s got this sense about him, like they’ve got this thread that connects them and keeps them intricately twisted together.

It’s a good feeling. It makes every day seem like an opportunity for something wonderful to happen, like Hoseok wakes up every morning to a field of dreams that he shares with Kihyun. 

Kihyun makes Hoseok feel like every sappy Hallmark card he’s ever scoffed at in the drugstore: _The good things in life are better with you; The best thing that ever happened to me is you._ He could make a photo album full of snapshots of Kihyun’s smile and call it: _You are my heart’s epic adventure._

“Is he the best you ever had?” Minhyuk asks one day, a month later, at the end of a long and hard dance practice, after midterms but before the holidays -- slow season. The others have gone back to their apartments and dorms, but Minhyuk and Hoseok lingered, not quite ready for the day to be over. They aren’t even dancing anymore, just sitting on the hardwood floors sipping at their bottles of water until their breaths turn back to normal.

“The best,” Hoseok says dreamily. “Maybe the best for forever.”

“Are you in love with him?”

“Definitely,” Hoseok says.

Minhyuk laughs, cheerful, bright. “That was fast.”

Hoseok plays with the ridges on the bottle of water between his fingers, thinking of how Kihyun laughs with his head thrown back, laughs with his whole body. He loves that about him. Loves everything about him. “He’s perfect, Minhyuk.”

“I know you think so,” Minhyuk says, sobering. He stands, and offers a hand to help Hoseok stand as well. Hoseok takes it, grunting as he’s pulled to his feet. “C’mon, lover boy. Let’s go home and hit the showers.”

.

Kihyun does this thing when he’s studying where he touches his bottom lip in thought, worries at it until it’s pink and then red, and then sucks it in between his teeth, worrying more. Hoseok sits, entranced and not studying at all, the library filled with quiet murmurs around them that echo through the cavernous space between all the stacks, where the tables are.

“What?” Kihyun says, breaking Hoseok out of his trance.

Hoseok blinks, meeting Kihyun’s eyes. He’s wearing his glasses today, and it looks like he hasn’t brushed his hair all week, and he has a spot forming on the side of his nose but Hoseok still loses his breath every time he looks at him.

“Nothing,” Hoseok says, shifting his gaze back down to his laptop in front of him and miming typing the keys. He’s supposed to be working on a paper but he can’t find the energy to even pull out the prompt with the questions and parameters. He has other things on his mind.

Kihyun hunches down over his textbook and pushes his glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose, nonplussed. “You were staring,” he accuses with a smile, purposefully hidden from Hoseok.

“So, what?” Hoseok says with a huff. “Aren’t I allowed to?”

“Yeah, but you’re so obvious about it, Hoseok.” Hoseok flushes as Kihyun presses his foot against Hoseok’s ankle under the table and starts to rub his calf, up and down with intent. “You don’t want to study anymore?” Kihyun says, putting his chin in his palm and tilting his head coquettishly, eyelashes fluttering behind the lenses of his glasses.

Something catches in Hoseok’s chest and spills out from his lips. “Visit me over break,” he says in a rush.

Kihyun blinks, and his grin wavers. “Hm?”

“Over break,” Hoseok says, slower this time, as Kihyun’s foot slows and he sits up a little straighter, his eyes widening behind his glasses. “Visit me. And my family. I want you to meet them." 

Kihyun laughs, but it seems forced, and Hoseok frowns. “Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Kihyun says. “You want me to meet your family? What, like, hey fam, here’s the guy I hang out with and occasionally fuck from time to time?”

Hoseok’s frown deepens. He doesn’t like it when Kihyun is so crude. “It’s not like that -- Could you not? We’re in the library.”

“I’m sorry,” Kihyun says, holding out his hand for Hoseok to take over the table and not looking very sorry at all. Hoseok takes it, grudgingly, but softens when Kihyun starts to play with his fingers. “I’m going back to Seoul for break, though, anyway. So I can’t.” 

“Oh,” Hoseok says. He’s disappointed.

“Maybe next time.” Kihyun shrugs, measuring his fingers against Hoseok’s. The pads of his fingers are smooth and dry; Hoseok watches how their knuckles slide together and apart and imagines they are puzzle pieces struggling to mold their sides to fit each other’s, or maybe it’s just Hoseok, his waves crashing against Kihyun’s jagged cliff edges.

.

“Hey, Kihyun,” Hoseok says. His breath makes the dust motes in the beams of light streaming in through Kihyun’s blinds covering his windows dance and flutter. Kihyun is on his stomach on the bed, engrossed in reading something for class on his phone, pushing his glasses up higher against his face every few minutes more out of habit than necessity. His shoulders are bare and Hoseok knows he’s naked under the covers, too; Hoseok himself is only wearing a pair of gray briefs. He traces the crests and falls of Kihyun’s shoulders blades with his eyes.

“What’s up?” Kihyun asks. They’ve been awake for hours and Kihyun hasn’t looked at him fully once.

Hoseok lies down next to him, on his stomach also, and nudges him with his shoulder. “What do you think of when I say the word _blue_.”

Kihyun’s eyes flicker from his phone to Hoseok and back again. “Your hair,” he says easily.

“What about _pink_?”

Kihyun grins. “My hair.”

“School?”

“Classes.”

“Work?”

“Coffee.”

“Family?”

Kihyun huffs and puts his phone down, looking at Hoseok with his lips in a pout, and Hoseok internally congratulates himself at the eye contact, at this victory. Kihyun says, “What is this? Interrogation time?”

“Just a game,” Hoseok says lightly, smoothing his palm down the planes of Kihyun’s back and shifting closer. His foot finds the back one of Kihyun’s calves under the sheets, and he presses cold toes against skin, counting the seconds it takes for him to warm. In Hoseok’s psychology lecture this week they’d started covering the Rorschach test and word associations and how amazing and terrifying the brain is at filling in the blanks and he’d started wondering, if presented with the same inkblot, he and Kihyun would see the same things. “You can do me next, if you want,” he adds.

Kihyun crosses his forearms and smashes his cheek against them, looking up at Hoseok from under his lashes, still pouting, but not outright resistant.

“Family,” Hoseok prompts again.

“Distant,” Kihyun says.

“Friends?”

“Changkyun.”

A pause as Hoseok stifles a wince. Kihyun doesn’t seem to notice.

“Happy?”

Kihyun pauses here, too, and Hoseok watches as his face brightens slowly, a small smile forming on his lips as his eyes narrow. “Singing.”

“Love,” Hoseok says, his heart thumping in his chest, echoing in the cavern of his ribcage.

Kihyun seems to freeze, and his eyes are dark when they meet Hoseok’s, and apologetic, and Hoseok’s heart twists. He can feel each tremor of breath that leaves Kihyun’s lips. “Hoseok…” he says, but not as an answer. “Pass.”

“No,” Hoseok says. He wants to hammer his fists against the closed doors of Kihyun’s response. “You’re supposed to say _you._  That’s what I would have said.”

Kihyun lowers his eyes and turns his face away, so his opposite cheek is resting on his forearms. A long moment passes as Hoseok imagines Kihyun turning back to him with a grin, a laugh. _Got you_ , he’d say teasingly.

But Kihyun doesn’t turn back to him. Instead, he says in a soft, hollow voice, “I’m sorry.”

Hoseok leaves after dressing; he tries not to think about how small Kihyun looks under the covers as he closes the door behind him.

.

At midday, unable to hold out, Hoseok apologizes in a series of texts. For what happened earlier in Kihyun’s room on Kihyun’s bed. It had been a stupid game Hoseok played, one he shouldn’t have forced Kihyun into. He’s sorry.

Kihyun takes a long time to respond after the messages are marked as _read_ , keeping Hoseok on edge for hours.

>> _it’s okay_ , Kihyun finally sends. >> _we can pretend it didn’t happen. deal?_

So Hoseok shoves that part of his heart into a box in a shadowy corner of his chest, and tells himself whatever it is he has with Kihyun -- it’s enough.

.

“You’re going to keep seeing him?” Minhyuk asks, after Hoseok confessed everything that happened to him over a dozen beers split between them in their apartment. He’s sprawled in Minhyuk’s lap, and Minhyuk is playing idly with Hoseok’s hair. It feels nice. Kihyun plays with Hoseok’s hair sometimes, twirling the strands between his fingers, after sex but before either of them fall asleep.

“Of course I am,” Hoseok says, eyelids fluttering shut. Suddenly they are very heavy, and he’s exhausted. He wonders what Kihyun is doing now, but he doesn’t have the guts to text Kihyun back after what Kihyun wrote to him. Could Hoseok pretend it never happened? That he wanted it to happen?

“Do you think that’s -- I don’t know -- wise?”

“It’s a rough patch,” Hoseok insists. “All couples go through rough patches. We’ll be fine.”

“It’s just that I’m having flashbacks, man,” Minhyuk says, his head lolling back onto the cushions of the couch.

Hoseok’s breath hitches, thinking about how whenever Kihyun and Hyunwoo are in the same room it feels like someone has scattered broken glass all over the floor and everyone else has to navigate so, so carefully. “Did Hyunwoo-hyung--”

“Not Hyunwoo,” Minhyuk says. “ _You_.”

Hoseok’s eyelids snap open. Minhyuk’s staring down at his face, worry written across his features. “What about me?” 

“You’re a romantic, Hoseok,” Minhyuk says evenly. He states it like a fact. “This doesn’t feel familiar to you? Rushing into things…?”

Hoseok slaps Minhyuk’s hands away from his hair and sits up, hurt. He’d just wanted to confess to his best friend and maybe commiserate together for a while and hear a few words of support and now Minhyuk was turning it around on _him_? His cheeks feel hot and he curls his hands into fists over the cushions. “I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hoseok sniffs.

“Dude,” Minhyuk says. His cheeks are pink, too, and his eyes are bright with a fervor Hoseok doesn’t really recognize in his friend. “Seulgi? Jun?”

“Don’t bring them up -- things didn’t work out. But this is different.”

“They didn’t work out because you freaked them out so hard! I mean, I get it; you fall in love easy.”

Hoseok glares at Minhyuk and Minhyuk’s jaw clacks shut audibly. The alcohol has loosened both of their tongues. He wants to stare Minhyuk down, but his friend doesn’t relent, and Hoseok drops his gaze first.

“Kihyun is different,” Hoseok says quietly, aware how pathetic he sounds. “I _really_ love him, Minhyuk.”

Minhyuk doesn’t respond for a full minute. Then, he sighs, and scoots closer to throw his arms around Hoseok in a tight hug. “Yeah, yeah,” he says. “I know you do.”

Hoseok feels his eyes prickling and then he’s crying, into Minhyuk’s shirt, as his friend rubs his back and tries to shush him.

“At least the sex is good,” Minhyuk offers in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Right?”

.

Things don’t really go back to the way they were. It is snowing, and the windows of the coffee shop have fogged up on the inside, obscuring the view of the vast white blanket of weather outside. Kihyun’s hair is still pink, but a little faded, almost blonde in some places, and he wears a scarf while working.

“We haven’t had dinner in two weeks,” Hoseok says, leaning over the counter as Kihyun makes drinks. He’d stayed on campus after classes just to catch Kihyun on his shift, hoping to cajole Kihyun out to dinner with him once his shift ended.

“You came over like two nights ago,” Kihyun says, wrinkling his nose. He steps away for a second to hand the customers their drinks but returns, wiping his hands on his apron. “And two nights before that.”

“But that wasn’t dinner,” Hoseok complains, scrunching up his face, also. “That was just -- it was like one in the morning both nights and all we did was fool around and fall asleep.”

“You want more?” Kihyun asks, and Hoseok doesn’t know if he’s teasing. Yes, Hoseok wants to shout. He wants more, he wants to go on dates, he wants Kihyun to laugh at his jokes and to smile at him and tell him he’s being silly. He wants Kihyun to tease him and make him food and hold him so tight in bed Hoseok thinks he’ll suffocate before being able to leave. He wants that back; he wants whatever it was they had before he tried to invite Kihyun over to meet his family for the holidays, whatever it was they had before he told Kihyun he loves him.

Stupid, he thinks to himself.

“I feel like you’re angry with me,” he says, instead of answering Kihyun’s question, suddenly acutely aware that they’re in a coffeeshop, in the place where Kihyun works, and Hoseok is probably being an asshole, saying this right now, but something in him wants to pick at Kihyun, to rile him up, to make him show an ugly side to Hoseok, because otherwise all Hoseok has is Kihyun’s smile and laugh and the way his voice broke when he apologized to him in bed. 

Kihyun says, “I’m not angry with you. Just busy.”

Which is maybe worse, Hoseok feels. At least anger is a feeling that can be directed at Hoseok, can be contended with. If Kihyun’s busy, then it’s just time that is Hoseok’s enemy.

“With what?” Hoseok asks.

Kihyun is cleaning the steamer on the machine with a towel, the movement of his hand rhythmic and steady. “With school, and work. I auditioned for a musical. A student production.”

“You what? You didn’t tell me.”

Kihyun doesn’t look at him. He says, “It was just a spur of the moment thing. I got casted.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Hoseok presses, a tight, dreadful feeling in his chest, like he’d swallowed too much hot cocoa in one go.

“I don’t know, Hoseok,” Kihyun says, his voice tinged in exasperation, and Hoseok pulls back at the sharp bite of it. “I guess I forgot.”

The space between seems to reverberate. Hoseok wonders what else Kihyun forgot to tell him. Kihyun’s expression is raw and open after that, like he wishes he could take back what he’d said, but the damage is done. That tight, dreadful feeling in Hoseok’s chest pops like someone took a needle to it, and he feels heavy and numb all over.

“Oh,” he says, the backs of his eyes burning. “I see.”

“Hoseok,” Kihyun says like a sigh. “Wait--”

“No, it’s fine,” Hoseok says, scrubbing the back of his hand across his eyes. “You’re busy. I’ll text you. Maybe we can do dinner some other time.”

“Okay,” Kihyun says in a small voice, not apologizing, and Hoseok isn’t sure who broke whose heart.

.

The snow starts to pile up on the sidewalks, pushed up along the edges near the curb and creating makeshift snowbanks, a massive gray barrier against cars in the road. Hoseok sees Kihyun less and less. It’s okay -- Hoseok has dance practice and finals to study for and Kihyun has his musical and work and his own tests and it’s not like Hoseok stays up at night wondering if Kihyun is avoiding him.

Except maybe he does.

It’s just not working out at all the way he’d imagined or hoped. No fields full of flowers or dream walking or whatever it was that had filled his head just weeks before. Now it’s just gray snow and dark skies and Kihyun responding to his texts with short, clipped messages and sometimes not even responding at all, the frost covering the glass on windows in the morning creeping between them. He feels Kihyun-deprived, like there’s a hole in his heart that just keeps widening with every day that passes without waking up next to Kihyun’s sleeping face.

“Hoseok,” Minhyuk says, flopping a pillow over Hoseok’s bed. Hoseok takes the attack, lying prone on his mattress and groaning. “You have got to get up. Shower, at least.”

“What’s the point,” Hoseok mumbles into his other pillow, hoping maybe he’ll suffocate.

“The point,” Minhyuk says, “is that your hair is starting to get kind of disgustingly greasy? And it’s gross.”

“I don’t care.”

“Well, I do,” Minhyuk says. “And so do Hyungwon and Jooheon and Hyunwoo-hyung.”

“I don’t want to go to dinner,” Hoseok says.

“What was that?”

Hoseok lifts his face briefly to repeat what he said, and Minhyuk takes the opportunity to smack him in the face with the pillow in his hands.

“Get up,” Minhyuk demands. “Stop moping around. For god’s sake, invite Kihyun to dinner with us, Hoseok.”

“Really?” Hoseok flops onto his back, looking at Minhyuk with wide eyes. “That’s a great idea.”

Minhyuk rolls his eyes. “It’s not like he hates us,” Minhyuk says. “At least, I don’t think so. And Hyunwoo doesn’t care.”

But Hoseok is already texting Kihyun, the very thought of seeing him tonight rejuvenating him. They’ve tried to meet up a few times over the past couple weeks but never managed it, one of them always having some conflict arise in the moment. Kihyun had said earlier he’d be studying all day; surely he’d be able to take a break for food, right? 

He sends him a chat and waits for the notification to change from _received_ to _read_ , and then waits again for the three dots to appear at the bottom of the screen as Kihyun types.

“So?” Minhyuk asks.

“Shh. He’s responding.” He feels rather than sees Minhyuk rolling his eyes.

>> _can’t_ , Kihyun has sent. >> _not feeling well_ : < _just gonna stay in. didn’t even make it to the library._

<< _:(((((((_ , Hoseok sends back, letting the phone drop to his chest and feeling the hollow thump of it echo in his heart. “He’s not feeling well,” he informs Minhyuk.

“Doesn’t mean _you’re_ not feeling well,” Minhyuk says, taking Hoseok’s hands and hoisting him from the bed. Hoseok has no choice but to follow lest he be thrown to the ground. “Up and at ‘em.”

.

Minhyuk manages to herd Hoseok into the shower and critiques his choice of outfits until he’s satisfied with the combination of a pair of slim, dark jeans, sweater, and smart black coat and then he’s shoving Hoseok out of the door to meet their friends.

Dinner is nice, at some gastropub Hyungwon has been wanting to try for ages. Hoseok even has a good time; he doesn’t think about or mention Kihyun once except for when they are ordering their first round of drinks and out of the corner of his eye he sees a flash of pink hair. But lots of people have pink hair nowadays in New York City, and it’s not Kihyun.

He’d forgotten how much fun he could have with his friends. It’s like a breath of fresh air after weeks of smog. Hyungwon compliments him sarcastically for showering and Hyunwoo reminds them all about the dance event coming up just after the holidays and Minhyuk and Jooheon bicker over the finer aspects of the latest Marvel film. If Minhyuk has to keep pulling him into conversation from time to time because Hoseok is zoning out, that’s okay. He appreciates Minhyuk, who’s always looked out for him. He appreciates them all.

After dinner, they head to a bar for another round of drinks. The sign on the front says _Home Sweet Home_ but the bar is dingy like someone’s unfinished basement and even filled with strange knick-knacks you might find at a weird uncle’s house -- taxidermied animals line the shelves around the walls, and hat boxes, and old books with yellowed pages. The place is packed with locals on a weekend evening, music blasting from the speakers.

“I dare you,” Minhyuk says, sipping his beer, “to steal one of the stuffed squirrels and to hide it in Jooheon’s bed later.”

“Why the fuck would I do that,” Hoseok says. He’s drinking whiskey tonight. He deserves it.

“Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Then _you_ do it,” Hoseok suggests, and Minhyuk straightens his shoulders and gets that look in his eye that makes Hoseok want to cower, just a little bit. “No, don’t really--”

Minhyuk slips out into the crowd, leaving Hoseok alone at the bar. Hyungwon and Jooheon and Hyunwoo are on the small dance floor, jumping around vaguely in time to the beat. Hoseok pulls out his phone and reads his chats, eyes lingering over Kihyun’s message. He sighs and pockets his phone again, puts his elbows on the bar and stirs the tiny straw in his drink idly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a flash of pink.

He turns and blinks. And blinks some more. He sees Kihyun sliding into a seat at the end of the bar, his back to Hoseok, a drink in his hand.

He’s not sure what kind of feeling is controlling his movements as he stalks toward the other boy, but there’s determination, and disbelief, and a tiny little bit of hope. He has to elbow a couple of people out of the way, and mutters half-hearted apologies as he passes them. Kihyun’s coat is in his lap and his sweater is huge on him, the sleeves dripping past his fingers, and Hoseok’s heart squeezes painfully in his chest.

He stands behind him, and taps Kihyun on the shoulder.

Kihyun starts to turn in the bar seat. “Yoo--”

Whatever name he’d been about to say dies on his lips, when he sees Hoseok. Kihyun’s makeup is pretty tonight. He’s not wearing his glasses. His lips are dangerously pink. Hoseok hates how he thinks he’s so beautiful even as betrayal heats his blood like poison in his veins.

“You told me you weren’t feeling well,” he says by way of greeting.

“Did you _follow_ me?” Kihyun asks.

“No,” Hoseok says, affronted. “I’m here with Minhyuk and the others. Dinner, remember?”

“Right,” Kihyun says, looking uncomfortable. “Well, I had plans.”

Hoseok’s skin feels tight, especially around his knuckles. “Why didn’t you just say that?”

“I don’t know, Hoseok,” Kihyun says, hugging his arms across his chest. Hoseok still loves the way Kihyun says his name. 

Hoseok’s vision narrows until it’s just Kihyun in the center, his face bright and clear, and the anger in him spikes suddenly at the non-expression on Kihyun’s face, at how carefully he’s hidden himself away. “Did you lie about anything else?” Hoseok asks. “Everything else?”

“I never lied,” Kihyun says stiffly. “I never lied about anything. You just -- assumed. Everything. Fuck. I knew this would happen. I knew you’d make it weird.”

“Make what weird?”

“Us!” Kihyun shouts, gesturing between their chests. He takes a large pull from his drink. “I never should have slept with you. Again.”

That hole that had been widening every day without Kihyun’s presence starts to sting, acidic and awful and Hoseok either wants to throw up or cry. He settles for slamming his drink down onto the bar, and Kihyun jumps in his seat.

“What does that mean?” Hoseok asks, his blood pounding in his ears.

“You’ve got the wrong idea about me,” Kihyun says, fiddling with the glass in his hands and chewing on his bottom lip and looking fragile and uncertain in his huge sweater.

“I love you,” Hoseok blurts. It had been on the tip of his tongue the whole time. It comes out angry and raw and loud and Kihyun looks at him with wide eyes and his lips parted, his face draining of color. 

“I’m sleeping with other people,” Kihyun says. “I _told_ you. I _said_. I don’t do relationships. We never said we were exclusive. You never asked--”

“But I love you,” Hoseok says again, his breath leaving him. His ears are buzzing, and his hand tightens around the glass on the bar. Kihyun is sleeping with other people. For how long? With how many? He remembers the book of names he’d dreamed about, his name crossed off Kihyun’s list, another conquest. He feels small, suddenly, and insignificant. Kihyun might as well have slammed the heel of his boot on top of him like an insect.

As he watches, Kihyun’s expression shutters and closes off completely. A careful blankness takes him over.

“How is that my fault?” Kihyun asks quietly. He slips off the bar stool and knocks the rest of the drink back, draining it, before swinging his coat around his shoulders, whatever had been fragile about him moments before gone. “I’m sorry,” he offers, pushing past Hoseok, whose feet have grown roots into the ground, shock making his thoughts clear completely from his mind.

When Hoseok turns with half the intent to chase after him, he sees Kihyun meeting someone by the entrance, another boy of similar height, his face sharp in the reddish lights of the bar. Kihyun ushers him back outside, whispering in his ear. Hoseok meets the stranger’s eyes from across the room. There’s understanding in his expression, and pity.

. 

Finals come around. Hoseok studies and hangs out with the crew and binge watches shows in his free time. Any show will do. He hears about Kihyun, sometimes, in passing, about the musical, about who he might be sleeping with. He tries not to pay too much attention. He avoids the coffee shop where Kihyun works at all costs. The last message he received from Kihyun is still: _didn’t even make it to the library._

He wants to ask him how he’s doing. What his plans are while he’s in Seoul. He wants to know if Kihyun’s got enough time to study and eat and sleep and if he’s okay, if he misses Hoseok at all. He hates it; he feels pathetic, but his heart’s still got that hole Kihyun created in it, and he’s not sure he wants it to go away.

.

Over the holidays, Hoseok dyes his hair back to black. His scalp itches less, and when he looks in the mirror he isn’t reminded of Kihyun’s pink hair.

“You look good,” Minhyuk says when Hoseok is done dragging all of his luggage back into their apartment. He’s playing a video game on the couch, eating chips, and the sight is so familiar and welcome that Hoseok almost tears up.

He did a lot of crying over break -- seeing family always makes him a little sensitive, but being away from campus, too, was a tearful blessing in disguise. He thought a lot about Kihyun. About himself. About what Minhyuk said about him, and Seulgi, and Jun. Cried over his broken heart and wallowed with his sister for three days straight before even she got tired of his pity party.

“You’re a great guy, Hoseok!” his sister had yelled at him. “There will be other Kihyuns.” 

Which, actually, didn’t sound very promising. He didn’t really get over his heartache but after two weeks of distance from it, it feels less like a sign of the apocalypse.

“How’s your family?” Minhyuk asks next, as Hoseok leaves his suitcase in the living room to be tended to later and plops himself onto the couch next to his roommate. “How’s your sister?”

“Good, and still seeing that guy,” Hoseok informs Minhyuk, and the other shuffles a little lower into the cushions in disappointment.

They catch up. Things are normal, and classes start again in a couple of days. It’s a new year, Hoseok thinks hopefully. Things are looking up.

.

It takes three weeks for Hoseok to fall into the routine of the new semester. His classes have all shifted times and the family friend’s son doesn’t need much tutoring anymore, so he considers looking for a part-time job. He doesn’t carry this thought very far, though, as Hyunwoo asks him to help choreograph a dance for their crew for a performance in the early spring and he’d much rather spend his time doing that than folding clothes for minimum wage at a shop in Union Square, or something.

As students get acclimated to college again, so do the invitations for parties and events begin to build. One of the student associations Hoseok went to one meeting for last semester sends him an invite to a Make-Up New Year’s Party, and another he didn’t even sign up for invites him to their annual pong tournament.

The pong sounds intriguing, but it’s the same weekend as Hyungwon’s birthday, which is quickly snowballing into a major event. Hoseok never realized Hyungwon knew so many people, but he supposes if every one of Hyungwon’s friends invites more friends, the invite list is bound to grow. And Hyungwon is pretty close with lots of students from other dance crews, too.

A lot of things about Hyungwon remain a mystery to Hoseok, so he’s not sure how exactly Hyungwon managed to put his party on the list at a club in the basement of a hotel in Meatpacking District without anyone needing to pay cover, but he’ll take it.

“He’s like, magic, or something,” Minhyuk explains. “I heard his parents are pretty big in fashion, so he’s got the connect." 

“I never knew,” Hoseok says.

“Oh, Hoseok, you never asked.” Minhyuk grins at him over their lunch at the student center, a quick bite before they have to run to their next class. “Anyway,” Minhyuk continues, “it’s gonna be crazy, everyone’s going to be there.”

Hoseok laughs because Minhyuk’s got pizza sauce on his face, but he’s thinking, hoping: not everyone.

.

There are two levels to the club. The upper level is like a bar and mezzanine, the balcony wrapping around the circumference of the club so that those on the second floor can look down into the center to the people on the first. There’s a stage for when the venue hosts live bands, but tonight the stage has been pushed back and there’s just enough room for the DJ, instead. Hyungwon has a group of tables on the first floor, bottle service, and a direct line to the DJ.

“Are you connected to the mafia?” Hoseok asks him, needing to yell over the loud, pulsing electronic music, but Hyungwon only laughs and shakes his head and doesn’t answer, pushing a shot glass over to Hoseok filled with a clear liquid, and Hoseok shoots it back.

He watches as a table nearby orders a bottle and the staff bring it out in a bucket of ice, and in that bucket of ice are sparklers, lit at the tips and letting off bright flashes of light. He and Minhyuk had arrived a little late, waiting for Jooheon to settle on his outfit for the night. He’d been nervous about something but wouldn’t say what.

Not so nervous now, Hoseok thinks as he sees Jooheon knock back two shots in a row with Hyungwon, the birthday boy, whose eyes are already halfway to closed from starting the night early.

“Let’s get drinks at the bar!” Minhyuk yells at Hoseok, tapping his shoulder and gesturing to get the point across. Hoseok nods and they push their way through dancing bodies to the bar, backlit with a dark purple light. The bartender flashes a smile at them, his teeth pearly white.

Hoseok lets Minhyuk order their drinks. He looks around the room, his feet starting to move in time to the music.

Minhyuk pushes a glass into his hands a moment later, informing him it’s a rum and Coke. And then he says, “Uh, fuck.”

Hoseok turns to frown at him. “What?”

“Don’t look over there,” Minhyuk says, pointing anyway, so Hoseok looks.

It’s Kihyun. 

Of course it’s Kihyun. His hair is dark again -- in the flashing lights of the club it looks like a warm, chestnut brown, styled with an undercut, the sides shorn close to the sides of his head. The sweater he’s wearing is ripped at the neckline, his collarbones starkly visible. His eyeliner is dark and smoky. Hoseok’s mouth goes dry.

“Why is he here?”

Minhyuk makes a helpless noise. “He probably came with Changkyun,” he says. “Jooheon invited Changkyun. Oh, Hoseok, fuck. I’m sorry.”

Hoseok tears his gaze away from Kihyun and forces a smile at Minhyuk. Turns his back to Kihyun. “No, it’s fine. Whatever. It’s not like I have to talk to him.”

Minhyuk takes a deep breath and smiles placidly. “Right. You’re right. Okay, yeah. Let’s get drunk, then.”

They clink glasses together. Hoseok downs his drink in one go.

.

Hoseok wants to ignore Kihyun. He really does. But Jooheon sees Changkyun and brings him over and when Changkyun stays, Kihyun shows up, too. He’s bright and beautiful even in the dark and Hoseok can’t -- he just can’t. He wonders if this is how Hyunwoo felt when he invited Kihyun to the Battle of the Boroughs with them.

Frustrated and confused, still hopelessly in love.

He feels like he can’t breathe.

Kihyun seems to sense this, though, and leaves them for another group, promising to come back later. If anyone else notices the awkward air between them, they don’t address it. It’s Hyungwon’s night, anwyay. 

It isn’t until Hoseok’s waiting in line for the bathroom that he realizes it’s been at least over an hour since he’s seen Kihyun. Since anyone’s seen him. He pisses in the urinal, and then he decides to look for him.

Just to make sure.

He scours the first floor drunkenly, his thoughts in a haze. He manages to find his way back to the group and asks them if they’ve seen Kihyun, and Minhyuk shakes his head sadly and holds Hoseok by the elbow and looks at him with a meaningful gleam in his eye before Hoseok pulls away. He doesn’t know what to do with that expression, anyway. 

So Hoseok goes up to the second floor. It’s quieter up here, but only because there are fewer dancing bodies. Most of the space is lounge-like, with low recliners and glass tables and shadowy corners. He knocks his knees into a few of the glass tables as he searches, ignoring the irritated (and sometimes amused) looks those who are sitting around the tables throw him.

He finds Kihyun completely passed out in one dark corner, his body curled up onto the cushions of the sofa. His eyeliner is smudged, lips red. Hoseok taps his shoulder but there’s no response.

“Kihyun,” Hoseok says, tapping harder and holding his breath.

A groan. Kihyun’s eyelids flutter open. He holds his head in his hands. “Fuck,” he whispers. “What?”

“Are you okay?” Hoseok asks, worry making a knot in his stomach. Even intoxicated, Hoseok can tell Kihyun’s gaze is unfocused, his cheeks flushed but his skin dry and a little hot.

“I don’t know,” Kihyun says. “I think I drank something weird.” It all comes out in a slur. Kihyun looks up at Hoseok but his head lolls back too far, like he can’t quite control it. He blinks slowly.

“Did you take something?” Hoseok asks, holding out his hand for Kihyun to take. Kihyun stares at it, before closing his eyes with a pained expression.

“Not on purpose,” he says. His chin drops to his chest.

Hoseok shakes his shoulder again, but Kihyun’s out. “Fuck,” Hoseok says to himself. “Fuck, shit, shit--”

“Oh good,” someone says behind him. “You found him.” Hoseok turns and it’s Minhyuk, bouncing on his toes. “Uh, is he okay?”

Hoseok swallows. “I think someone drugged him,” he says. “I’m calling him a cab.”

. 

Minhyuk helps Hoseok walk Kihyun downstairs and into a cab. Once in the backseat, it becomes readily apparent that Kihyun can’t go anywhere alone. Hoseok tells the driver to take them back to his apartment, taking off his jacket to put over Kihyun’s shoulders. When he tells Minhyuk he doesn’t have to come with him, Minhyuk adamantly refuses to leave.

“You’ll need help getting him up the stairs,” he reasons.

Kihyun sleeps on Hoseok’s shoulder the whole way home. Hoseok isn’t sure if he can call it sleep, to be honest, if Kihyun’s been rendered unconscious, but Kihyun looks so soft next to him and his breath is even against his neck and Hoseok has to turn away and look out of the window because he thinks his heart is breaking all over again.

“Why didn’t he come find us?” Minhyuk asks, the question making Hoseok feel guilty, for some reason. “Why’d he go off on his own? Shouldn’t we have told Changkyun?”

Hoseok doesn’t respond. He doesn’t know.

He ends up carrying Kihyun on his back up the stairs to their apartment. Minhyuk unlocks the doors for them, and wordlessly helps Kihyun slip off his shoes as soon as they enter. “Do you have Changkyun’s number?” he asks Minhyuk, who nods. “Text him that Kihyun got really drunk and we took him home. Tell him to get his jacket and stuff.”

Minhyuk does so as Hoseok carries Kihyun into his room. There, he deposits Kihyun carefully onto his bed, and tugs at the covers until the smaller boy is underneath them. He brushes his thumb over Kihyun’s cheek; his chest feels heavy and burdened.

When he comes back out into the living room, Minhyuk is sitting on the couch, biting at his fingernails. “Should we call the police?” he asks. “The hospital? What do we do?”

Hoseok shakes his head, looking much calmer than he feels. “He didn’t seem hurt; just confused. I think -- I think the hospital will freak him out more. Maybe we can ask him in the morning.”

“Okay,” Minhyuk says, still looking uncertain. “Are you going to sleep out here?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Okay,” Minhyuk says again. Then he says, “Changkyun said he has all of Kihyun’s stuff, and thanks for taking care of him.”

The burden in Hoseok’s chest condenses. He wonders why on earth Kihyun wandered away from the group instead of towards, tonight. He wonders a lot of things. He wonders what questions he should have asked Kihyun to keep him, the first time. What he could have done better, or differently. He wonders if it would have changed anything.

.

Hoseok wakes to the sound of someone retching, the toilet flushing in the bathroom, running water. He throws his hand over his face, groaning, expecting to find Minhyuk curled over the toilet bowl needing someone to hold back his hair, but when he stumbles to the door frame and knocks, the door opens to reveal Kihyun standing at the sink, eyeliner running down his cheeks and skin too pale. The whole night comes rushing back to him. 

“What happened?” Kihyun asks, his voice rough and thin. “How did I get here?”

“Kihyun,” Hoseok breathes.

“What the fuck, Hoseok.” Kihyun looks angry, and scared, his shoulders shaking in the thin sweater he’s wearing from last night.

“Minhyuk and I brought you home,” Hoseok explains slowly. “Nothing happened, we think. We found you passed out in the club. So we took you home. That’s all.”

Kihyun makes a strangled noise, tilting his head back, pressing a knuckle gently underneath each eye. Trying not to cry, Hoseok realizes. “Okay,” Kihyun says, breathing out through his mouth deliberately. “I don’t remember anything.”

“Kihyun,” Hoseok starts slowly, gently. He wants to reach out and gather Kihyun into his arms but thinks that wouldn’t end well, not with the way Kihyun is holding himself together now, arms crossed in front of his chest. “We think someone spiked your drink.”

“Great,” Kihyun hisses. “Fucking great. Thanks.”

“Do you want to come out? And have some water?”

“No,” Kihyun says. “I want to know who spiked my drink.”

Hoseok says, “It could have been anyone, Ki. I mean, everyone knows that you--”

“I’d be really careful how you finish that sentence, Hoseok,” Kihyun interrupts.

“But it’s true,” Hoseok says, feeling a huge sense of release at the words, and anger that Kihyun is lashing out at him.

Hoseok had only been trying to help. He’s always trying to help. He’d been holding these words tight and coiled inside his chest for so long, and now they all come spilling out, each word burning hot like oil as his anger rises. “Even when you were with me, you were sleeping around. You said so yourself.” He can see how he’s only adding more oil to the flame, how each word flung from his lips is like a dagger, but he can’t stop himself. “Maybe if you didn’t have this reputation, people wouldn’t try to roofie you at parties!”

The silence after his outburst is sharp, and piercing. As Hoseok watches, Kihyun’s expression crumples, his eyes glassy with tears, and Hoseok feels like a raging bull in a china shop.

“You--” Kihyun manages, but nothing more before the tears spill over onto his cheeks.

Good, Hoseok thinks viciously, feeling possessed. He’d cried so much over Kihyun, it’s only fair that Kihyun cries a little over him, too.

“You _asshole_ ,” Kihyun whispers. He pushes past Hoseok with a hard nudge to his shoulder, stalking to the front door.

Minhyuk is awake in the living room. Hoseok hears him say Kihyun’s name before their front door slams shut, loud and sudden and echoing.

Hoseok turns, his mind catching up with his actions. He hadn’t meant to say those things. He hadn’t meant to make Kihyun cry. How had that happened so quickly? Minhyuk meets his gaze at the end of the hallway and shakes his head.

“Even for you,” Minhyuk says, “that was pretty shitty.”

.

He can only handle about a week of Minhyuk giving him the cold shoulder and Jooheon glaring at him during dance practice before he caves, cornering Minhyuk in their apartment in the kitchen and asking him beseechingly what he did wrong.

“Oh, please,” Minhyuk snaps. “You always do this!”

“Do what?” Hoseok asks, slightly hysterical. He hasn’t been able to get Kihyun’s face out of his head, his tears; Kihyun’s voice calls him an asshole every morning as soon as he wakes up. Later, he finds out that Changkyun had told Jooheon everything, after Kihyun begged Changkyun to go with him to the student health center, after Kihyun broke down in their living room and cried for a day straight.

“You always pretend like you didn’t do anything wrong,” Minhyuk says. He’d been making coffee, filling up the apartment with the aroma, but he tosses what was left in the pot down the kitchen sink as Hoseok watches, leaving him with nothing. “You always do this -- in every relationship. You think that it’s all rose petals and champagne the whole time until things get hard. Or you set them up on this weird pedestal and act all offended when they don’t live up to it. I’m tired of it, Hoseok.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about--”

“Jun,” Minhyuk begins. “Was a great guy. He’s in a few of my classes, still. You wanted to move in together like two months into your relationship. So he freaked, and you didn’t listen to anything he had to say about why he didn’t want to move in with you, just moped for ages and blamed him for ruining things.” 

“Okay,” Hoseok says, reflecting and conceding a little bit. “But that was--”

“You thought Seulgi was perfect but when she said she didn’t want to be exclusive you totally flipped on her and now she won’t come near any of us, Hoseok.”

Hoseok winces as Minhyuk angrily stirs sugar into his coffee, spoonful after spoonful. “That's a lot of sugar,” Hoseok comments, just to say something to distract from the awful, cloying thing building up in his chest.

“Kihyun is the same,” Minhyuk says. “Hoseok, did you even really know him? Did you try? I feel like you have this -- idea in your head about what a relationship is supposed to be like and then everything else gets fogged up in your brain.”

“I knew him,” Hoseok protests miserably. “I did. I tried.” 

“He might have hurt you,” Minhyuk says, “but you hurt him, too. And then to say those things...” The spoon in Minhyuk’s hand clanks noisily in his mug. He sighs, and Hoseok can’t look at him. He knows he fucked up. “Changkyun told Jooheon everything, and Jooheon told me everything -- that happened after. He was so freaked. I mean, I would have been, too.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok says, imagining how he would have reacted if he’d woken up like that, not remembering anything about the night before. In reality, he doesn’t have to imagine it -- he knows how it feels, but he’d always been in control of his own consumption, in a way, waking up with blank spots in his memory because he’d taken too many shots. Chosen to take too many shots. What if he hadn’t been the one to choose, and instead someone had forced those drinks down his throat? Nausea roils his stomach.

Hoseok leans against the counter and sighs shakily. “What do I do, Minhyuk? I miss him. I messed up, and I miss him so much.”

“Do you miss him, or do you miss the idea of him?” Minhyuk asks. “There’s a difference, and it matters.”

“I miss _him_ ,” Hoseok says. He’s certain of it. He thinks he’s never been more certain of anything in his life. He misses how they were, before things got complicated. He misses teasing Kihyun with how bad he is at video games, and he misses how Kihyun sings to himself while he cooks, and he misses being able to go to the coffee shop and talk to Kihyun over the counter for hours about nothing and everything.

“Then for fuck’s sake, grow up,” Minhyuk says. “And apologize to him.”

.

The coffee shop looks the same, just with snow piled against the walls under the windows, hardened into ice. Hoseok walks around the block three times before he makes himself enter, a warm blast of air as soon as he steps through the doors making him shiver at the change in temperature.

He pulls his scarf down under his chin and hikes the straps of his backpack higher onto his shoulders.

Kihyun is working behind the counter, and the line is short. Hoseok gets in line without being seen. At the register, he places his order, and says his name a little louder than necessary. Hoseok isn’t sure if Kihyun hears.

Hoseok waits for his drink. He thinks it is taking longer than necessary. Maybe Kihyun is ignoring the cup with his name on it. His palms start to sweat, and he’s fighting the urge to flee, but he’s determined, too. Minhyuk was right. He needs to do this, even if nothing comes from it.

“Hoseok?” Kihyun says, putting Hoseok’s latte out onto the counter. Hoseok steps forward, wanting to meet Kihyun’s eyes, but Kihyun doesn’t look up, deliberately avoiding him.

“Kihyun,” he says plaintively. “Please.”

“Your drink’s on the counter,” Kihyun says, trying to build a wall between them with his words.

“I just want to talk,” Hoseok says, stepping closer and taking his drink in hand. “Please?”

Kihyun sighs. “I’m working,” he says.

“When do you get off?”

“Four,” Kihyun says, and Hoseok swallows, hesitant.

“Oh...I have class then.”

Kihyun finally looks at him, his lips pressed together. He looks blank. He looks tired. Hoseok wonders how much of that is his fault. “I can take my break,” Kihyun says quietly.

Hoseok nods, eager. “Okay, yeah. Thanks.”

Kihyun steps away to speak to the manager and disappears into the back of the shop. When he emerges again, he’s taken off his apron and put on a fluffy parka, a grey beanie pulled down over his ears. “Let’s go to the park,” Kihyun suggests, and Hoseok nods again. Kihyun leads the way.

The park is less than a block away, a square of concrete with a fountain in the middle and patches of green. They sit on an empty bench, Kihyun crossing his legs as soon as he sits.

“So…” Hoseok begins. Now that he has Kihyun with him he’s not sure what to say. A person walks by with a dog on a leash, and he lets himself be distracted for a moment.

“You wanted to talk,” Kihyun says. “So talk.”

“I…” Hoseok begins again before his words die in his throat. He rubs his face over his hands, groaning.

“I only have ten minutes.”

“Okay!” Hoseok says. “Sorry. I wanted to say I’m sorry. For a lot of things, but mostly for -- that morning, after Hyungwon’s party. I wanted to apologize for that. For what I said. I didn’t mean it.” 

“But you said it,” Kihyun says, sinking back against the bench. “Why would you say it if you didn’t mean it?”

“To hurt you,” Hoseok admits. “Because you hurt me.”

“Oh,” Kihyun whispers, but it might have been the wind. When Hoseok looks over, Kihyun’s hands are stuffed in the pockets of his parka, and he’s got his head tilted back as he sniffs, unwilling to let any tears fall.

“And I wanted to say that I miss you,” Hoseok continues. “I really do.”

Kihyun wipes under his eyes, drying them. When he looks at Hoseok, the tip of his nose is red and his cheeks are pink. He says, “You know, when I woke up in your room that morning, the first thing I thought? I thought: At least it was Hoseok. It really hurt, and I kind of wanted to throw myself out of your window but -- it could have been worse.”

The Kihyun he sees right now is one Hoseok doesn’t entirely recognize, the vulnerability laid bare in his eyes, in the slight tremor of his lips. Kihyun asks, his voice making Hoseok’s heart ache, “Did you think I deserved it?”

“No,” Hoseok says, taking one of Kihyun’s hands in his. Their fingers are cold, but he tries to warm them through sheer force of will. “Never.”

Hoseok notices for the first time that Kihyun’s fingernails are bitten down to the quick, that he has a scar over the knuckle of his index finger on his right hand. He brushes his thumb over it, gentle, begging for forgiveness through his actions, also.

Kihyun sniffs wetly, and then he laughs, the sound wretched and small. Fat drops of tears fall to his coat over his lap. “I’m no good at this,” he says.

Hoseok remembers to breathe. “At what?”

“This,” Kihyun says, squeezing Hoseok’s hand in his. “Relationships. I thought I wanted to try with you, but I didn’t know how. And I’m shit at talking about my feelings. It’s just -- it’s easier, being alone.” He kicks at a stray pebble on the ground, looking down into his lap. “I miss you, too.”

Hoseok takes a chance and shifts closer, until their hips are touching on the bench. Kihyun doesn’t move away. He doesn’t move away when Hoseok takes his other hand in his and squeezes, bringing Kihyun’s knuckles up to his lips to kiss them. “I thought I was pretty good at relationships, you know? But I’m pretty shit, too. I was wrong. I should have asked you what you wanted,” Hoseok says.

“I should have told you how I felt,” Kihyun whispers. “Things were so good with you, Hoseok. I didn’t know how to keep doing that. I got scared.”

“Me dropping the L-word a couple weeks after we started sleeping together probably didn’t help,” Hoseok admits.

“But that’s just you,” Kihyun says. “You’re so -- optimistic. And good. And hopeful. And romantic. I’m none of those things. I’m sorry--”

“It’s okay,” Hoseok says. He wraps his arms around Kihyun and brings him closer. Kihyun rests his head on Hoseok’s chest, sighing deeply. “If you want, we can try again. I promise to listen, and to take it slow.”

Kihyun says, “What if we hurt each other again?”

“Hm.” Hoseok presses his lips to the top of Kihyun’s beanie, holding him tighter. “We’ll work it out and forgive each other, or we won’t. I don’t know. I’m trying to let go of perfectionism, because I want us to try.” Kihyun laughs softly, and Hoseok realizes he hasn’t heard Kihyun laugh for real in weeks. It lights a warmth in his core that spreads to the ends of his fingers and toes. He continues, “Also, Minhyuk will probably kick my ass again and I’ll apologize, and we can make up right here on this bench.”

Kihyun hums. He rises and falls with the movements of Hoseok’s chest as he breathes. Kihyun says, “I guess I should stop sleeping with other people.”

“Yeah, that’d be a good first step,” Hoseok agrees.

Kihyun rests against his chest for a few more long, wonderful moments, and then he sits up and kisses Hoseok on the cheek. “I have to go back to work…”

“Can we...do dinner? After class?” Hoseok asks, unwilling to let go of Kihyun yet, hoping to drag out the minutes with him until he has to leave.

“Do you mean, can I cook dinner for you after class?”

Hoseok ducks his head sheepishly. “Yeah…”

Kihyun kisses his cheek again, and Hoseok turns into the next kiss so that it lands on his lips, breathing in Kihyun’s gasp of surprise and smiling against Kihyun’s teeth. “I don’t know,” Kihyun says slowly, but returning the smile. “I think we may have to go back to when you were trying to woo me.”

“I never tried to woo you,” Hoseok says.

“Well, then you better start.”

He leaves after another shy kiss, their fingers touching until the very last possible moment. Hoseok stays on that bench in the park, just watching people pass and unable to stop himself from smiling from time to time, until he has to go to class.

.

Kihyun shows up at Hoseok’s later, with take-out and a list of movies they could watch. They accidentally fall asleep on the couch, but this is okay. It’s good. They’ll take it slow.

.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! comments are appreciated <3
> 
> come talk to me on twitter @andnowforyaya


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